Armour
by aradian nights
Summary: Targaryen, Stark, or Snow, Jon was Arya's brother, and only he could make her feel happiness while dying.


**_A_**_rmour_

The taste of blood was on her lips. She would have screamed with the pain, but she felt cold, and almost calm in the midst of chaos. She knew that was idiotic, that calm was not something she should be feeling. But as she lay in the snow, struggling for breath, she felt an understanding. The red god had come to meet her, to hold her while she gasped. It told her that the hard part was living, and that death…

She knew it would be as easy as closing her eyes, but she didn't want to go, not yet. There were things she wanted to say, people she wanted to see… As no one, she should have erased the faces of those she loved from her mind, and kept the faces of those who would feel the stab of a needle one day, but she couldn't. Perhaps she wasn't as strong as she believed herself to be, for Jon Snow's long, solemn face was all she could see. She smiled at the thought of seeing him, at the image of his tearful eyes, and his trembling smile.

_So old_, she thought confusedly_. Is it him, or my imagination playing games with me?_

"Oh, little sister," he murmured, laying a gloved hand on her cheek. "Where have you been?"

She wanted to sob, but she could not cry, not now, not when she was so close to tasting victory. Her list was nearly complete, all she needed was–

She choked trying to contain the sob as Jon mussed her hair, tussling it into the snow around her. It was a simple action that she'd been yearning for, years of wondering whether he'd ever do it again. It was hell knowing this was the last time he'd ever do it. Her calm melted into devastation as she attempted to reach up to him, her throat making odd gurgling noises when she tried to speak.

"Don't," Jon said, pushing the hair from her eyes. "You can see me, right? Just nod."

She nodded, swallowing blood as she did so. She wanted to roll her eyes, and snap at him, _"I'm dying, not blind!"_ The world was being cruel today. She thought of Nymeria, who she knew was traveling north to meet her. All her wolf would find was a corpse, and perhaps the wolves would howl across the globe for the next dead Stark, as they had when Bran had fallen, as she was sure they had when Grey Wind and Robb had been slaughtered.

"I missed you," her brother murmured. "So much… I thought you were dead."

Soon enough, Jon, she would have said if her throat was clear of blood. She tried to smile at him, but she knew it looked ugly and red. She wondered if she could say one last thing, her last words, her last request. She looked up at him, and she saw he was wearing black armour under his furs and cloak. Black was a good color for him, but he must have known that when he joined the Night's Watch. She squinted through her hazy vision as he pulled her head into his lap.

She spat blood as she tried to whisper the name on her tongue when she saw the three headed dragon on his plate, glinting rubies in the shine of the winter sun. _Rhaegar,_ she remembered, and the stories of King Robert's war hammer smashing into the dragon prince's breast plate, showering rubies into the waters of the Trident came to mind. Her brother was wearing Targaryen armour. Was this a fever dream?

She pressed her fingers against the ruby dragon, licking the blood on her lips. It felt warm, bloody beads against the cold night. She looked up at his eyes, and he shook his head. "You're my sister," he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. "Nothing anyone says will ever change that."

A true smile came to her then, her teeth glistening bright red, and she gave a wet laugh. "Jon," she rasped, her vision blurring. She thought she saw trees through the fog, and the scent of winter roses wafted toward her. "Take me home…"

To mother and father and Robb. Burn me and lay my ashes in the crypts, and let everyone know that it was _Arya Stark_ who died this day, the day the Others came, the day the Wall crumbled. She wondered if she'd see Bran or Rickon or Sansa, but somehow she doubted it.

Jon smiled sadly through the haze, and he held her to his chest. She felt warm suddenly, and the smell of roses and blood made her gut twist.

"We'll go together."

* * *

_Author's Note_

_This is letter A in this challenge I set for myself. I'm calling it Dani's Death Alphabet. Might make a friend do it some time, though they'll probably be like two paragraphs. Maybe. I did mean for this to be a drabble, but I guess for some people it's not? Less than a thousand words is a drabble for me I guess._

_I used armour because I wanted to sound... I don't know, BRITISH. I had a dilemma about it last night, and I asked my mother this morning, and of course she was no help because she's Canadian. I just went with the u._


End file.
